THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Professor  Roland  D.  Hussey 


WILD    ROSES    OF    CALIFORNIA 


WILD  ROSES  OF  CALIFORNIA 


A    BOOK    OF   VERSE 


BY 

GRACE   HIBBARD 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

A.    M.    ROBERTSON 

I   9  O  z 


Copyright,  1902 
by  A.  M.   Robertson 


The  Murdoch  Press 
San  Francisco 


fs 

3&S* 
w/t 


LOVINGLY    INSCRIBED    TO 

MRS.    JOHN    H.    JEWETT 

OF    SAN    FRANCISCO 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

PRELUDE    9 

WILD  ROSES   OF    CALIFORNIA II 

BLUE  SKIES  THAT  HOLD  A  STAR 12 

WELCOME,   SWEET   DAY 13 

"NON  TE  SCORDAR  DI  ME" 14 

TELL  ME 15 

SPANISH  MATCH  BOY l6 

WHITE  MOTHS 17 

PROMISE  AND   PROPHECY l8 

A  CRY  OF  THE  HEART  .     .         19 

THE  HEART  OF  A  SPANISH  GIRL 2O 

TWO   WAYS 21 

MARPESSA  TO  APOLLO 22 

JAPANESE  BUTTERFLY'S  SONG 24 

"l  WILL  COME  IN  THE  SPRING" 25 

THE  MINER'S  LITTLE  DAUGHTER 26 

UNDER  ORANGE  TREES 28 

ONLY  IN  SPRINGTIME 29 

A  STAR 30 

AWAY 31 

A  SOUL  EVOKED 32 

BELLS   OF  VENICE 33 

OUT  ON  THE    SANDS 34 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

FORGET-ME-NOTS 34 

A  DREAM   OF    YOU 35 

BRIGHT  STARS  OF  CHRISTMAS  EVE 36 

EVERY   MORNING 37 

DANDELIONS   THREE 38 

YE  PROUDE   LADYE 39 

JAPANESE  FEAST  OF  KITES 4O 

AT  THE   TEA-HOUSE 4O 

APPLE  BLOSSOMS 41 

"IT  DOTH  NOT  YET  APPEAR1' 41 

ANOTHER  AUTUMN 42 

SAFE 43 

I  WONDER   WHY 44 

APART 45 

MY  HEART'S  JOURNEY 46 

SING  A  SONG 46 

IN  AN  OLD  CATHEDRAL  TOWN 47 

ALL  SOULS'  EVE 48 

A  DESERT  ROSE 50 

AN  APRIL  SNOWFLAKE 51 

BARBARITA 52 

ONLY  A  GLANCE 53 

CAST  ASIDE 53 

GOOD-BY,  SWEET  DAY 54 

COME  INTO  THE  SUNSHINE  .     55 

EASTER  SONG 56 

"THE  HAUNTED" 57 

TELL  ME,  O  YE  VIOLETS 58 

PATIENCE 59 

FLOWER  FORTUNE  TELLERS 60 

A  DREAM    .                                            62 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

NO  SEER  CAN  TELL 64 

ITALIAN  FISHERMAN'S  SONG 65 

WHY  ? 66 

BEFORE  THE  SUN  GOES  DOWN 67 

THEY  ARE  WAITING  FOR  ME 68 

GHOST  OF  A  DAY 69 

THE  COMING  OF  DAWN 7<3 

TELL  ME 71 

CHANGED 72 

A  TRYST 74 

"NO  LOVE  FOR  ME" 75 

SAN  JUAN  BY  THE  SEA 76 

TO  "BROWN  EYES" 76 

ALONE 77 

DISCOVERY  OF  THE  SUNSHINE  MINE 78 

WOULD  THE  SUN  SHINE? 82 

NEW  YEAR'S  EVE 83 

THE  RAGMAN 84 

THERE  'S  FROST  UPON  THE  PANE 85 

AN  IDEAL  LOVE 86 

BABY-BLUE-EYES 87 

SUNSHINE  LAND 88 

ALONE 89 

NASTURTIONS 90 

THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD 91 

ALONG  THE  WAY 92 

THE  HELMET 94 

NEW  YEAR  FANCIES 95 

QUESTIONINGS 96 

"FOREVER  AND  A  DAY" 97 

GOLDEN  GATE  PARK  IN  WINTER 98 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

WILLOW   WANDS 99 

A  VALENTINE IOO 

FRIENDS  OF  LONG  AGO IOI 

RESCUED IO2 

TELL  ME 103 

CHOIR-BOYS 104 

UP  FROM  THE  SEA IO6 

CALIFORNIA  SPRINGTIME 107 

SUDDENLY Io8 

WHAT  THE  BIRDS   SING IOg 

I    HEARD  YOU  SING HO 

SWEET  PEAS Ill 

INDIAN   SUMMER 112 

"  BOW  DOWN  THINE  EAR,  O  LORD,  AND  HEAR  ME"  113 

TAKE  HEART 114 

ORIGIN  OF  THE  WILD    POPPY 11$ 

FOUND Il6 

IMMORTAL  FLOWERS Il8 

A  COLONIAL  COURTSHIP 119 

BEYOND I2O 

THE  FLOWERS   HE   PLANTED I2O 

A  FRINGE  OF   GOLD 121 

THE  SPELL  OF  SPRING 122 

PALM   SUNDAY 123 

THOUGHTS  AT  SEA 123 

WHITE   ROSES 124 

A  NORSE  GIRL  TO   HER  VIKING  ANCESTOR  ....  125 

AN  INVITATION  TO  CALIFORNIA 126 

A  TOKEN 127 

"FOR  VIOLETS  ARE  SWEET" 128 

DAISIES  OF  SCOTLAND 129 

8 


PRELUDE. 

Sweet  roses  crown  this  "sunset  /and," 
At  Christmas-tide  they  grow ; 

Pink  rose-leaves  are  its  summer  clouds, 
White  petals  are  its  snow. 


WILD  ROSES  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

No  ONE  had  called  her  beautiful, 
Whispered  to  her  of  Titian  hair, 

Told  of  her  pansy-colored  eyes, — 
He  was  the  first  to  call  her  fair. 

Out  'mid  madrona-trees  they  stood 
One  perfect  sunlit  summer  day. 

She  held  wild  roses  in  her  hands, — 
He  told  her  she  was  fair  as  they. 

The  wild  pink  roses  of  the  glen 

Filled  full  with  sweetness  the  warm  air. 

She  loves  the  sweet  wild  roses — for 
She  held  them  when  he  called  her  fair. 


ii 


BLUE   SKIES   THAT   HOLD   A   STAR. 

I  STAND  in  canyon  drear ;  upon  each  side 
Are  frowning  walls  of  cold  gray  rocks  that 

hide 

At  noontide  hour  the  light  of  day  from  me. 
Above  the  pines — 

Like  roof  of  blue — a  strip  of  sky  I  see, 
Where  one  star  shines. 
Alone,  bereft  of  those  we  love, 
When  sunlight  is  afar, 
There  's  ever  skies  of  blue  above, 
That  hold  a  gleaming  star. 


12 


WELCOME,  SWEET  DAY. 

I  NOTE  thy  coming  by  the  bright'ning 

Of  skies  afar — 
Though,  like  a  failing  lamp  long  burning, 

Still  shines  a  star. 

Already  on  the  eastward  tree-tops 

Trails  thy  bright  hair. 
Night  hath  a  gift  of  dewdrop  jewels 

For  thee  to  wear. 

'T  is  strange  I  joy  so  at  thy  coming — 

For  my  heart  sings ; — 
I  fancy  thou  wilt  bring  some  gladness 

Upon  thy  wings. 

From  rose  and  opal  skies  hath  faded 

The  one  white  star. 
Flowers  doth  open  thee  to  welcome — 

So  glad  they  are. 

Birds  on  the  branches  wake  with  singing- 
Light  gilds  the  sea. 

O  Day  well-loved  by  birds  and  flowers! 
I  welcome  thee. 


"  NON  TE  SCORDAR  DI  ME."* 

OFT  on  the  crowded  street 
Goes  up  my  mournful  cry, — 

"  Non  te  scordar  di  me," — 
Hundreds  hurrying  by. 

Soul-cries  move  not  the  lips. 

No  one  glances  at  me, — 
"  Non  te  scordar  di  me," — 

Upward  I  send  to  thee. 

Thy  home  is  very  fair, 
Dear  one  above  the  blue, — 

"  Non  te  scordar  di  me," — 
Never  forgotten  are  you. 

*  "  Do  not  forget  me." 


TELL  ME. 

DID  you  ever  find  a  glove 

In  a  hasty  search  some  day 
For  handkerchief  or  fan  ? 

Did  you  hide  your  face  away  ? 
Did  you  sob  and  cry  and  moan, 

In  your  party  dress  so  gay  ? 
Did  you  call  him  to  come  back — 

He  who  never,  never  may? 


SPANISH  MATCH-BOY. 

OVER  his  shoulder  a  big  brown  sack, — 
"  Mat-chees — mat-chees ! — 

Lady,  not  one  have  I  sold  to-day, — 
Buy  please — buy  please !  " 

Picturesque  boy,  he  stood  at  the  door, — 
"  Mat-chees — mat-chees !  " — 

Brown  soulful  eyes  that  implore,  implore,- 
"  Buy  please — buy  please !  " 

Sad  little  fellow  in  half-ragged  clothes, — 
Patched  knees — patched  knees, — 

"  I  sell  for  madre — padre  is  dead, — 
Buy  please — buy  please ! 
Mat-chees — mat-chees !  " 


16 


WHITE  MOTHS. 

OUT  on  the  lawn  where  the  roses  grow, 
Roses  of  gold,  and  roses  of  snow, 

White  moths  fly,— 
Fly  on  slight  wings  that  the  sun  shines 

through, 
Tinted  with  pink  and  the  soft  azure  hue 

Of  the  sky. 

Spirit-like  moths,  I  fancy  you  are, 
Angels  of  roses  come  from  a  star, — 

Star  so  bright, — 

Souls  of  roses  to  bear  on  your  wings 
Up  to  your  home — "The  beautiful  things  !"- 

Souls  so  white. 


PROMISE  AND  PROPHECY. 

THE  golden  sunshine  on  the  floor 
Is  crossed  by  shadow-wings. 

Outside,  on  bare  brown  branches, 
A  little  wild  bird  sings. 

A  promise  and  a  prophecy 

The  song  and  shadows  bring, — 

The  passing  of  the  winter, 
The  coming  of  the  spring. 


18 


A  CRY  OF  THE  HEART. 

MY  life's  one  cry   for  him,   my  well-loved 

boy,— 

Or  level  waste, — but  sometimes  comes  a  joy 
So  marvelous  I  wonder  can  it  be 

He  's  at  my  side ; 
Or  is  it  memory  that  comes  to  me, 

As  ocean's  tide 
Brings  broken  bits  of  wreck  unto  the  land  ? 

Comes  in  the  gold  of  sunset's  sky, — 
Comes  in  a  song,  a  flower,  or  kindly  hand, 
As  of  the  past,  and  he  seems  nigh. 


THE   HEART    OF   A    SPANISH   GIRL. 

I  HAD  read  of  the  girl  who  tossed  a  rose 
Down  unto  soldiers  from  window  high ; 

And  I  thought  of  her  of  the  old-time  war, 
As  beneath  my  window  troops  passed  by. 

I  stood  as  she  stood,  at  a  window  high, — 
Stood,  and  I  watched  the  bayonets  bright; 

A  basket  of  roses  was  at  my  side, — 
Roses  of  red,  and  roses  of  white. 

I  was  a  girl  with  a  heart  of  fire, — 
Spanish,  coquettish,  a  little  vain, — 

But  I  could  not,  I  would  not  toss  a  rose 
Unto  the  enemies  of  my  Spain. 

I  had  a  lover  with  eyes  of  the  night, — 
He  was  a  soldier, — he  was  their  foe ; 

So  I  held  the  roses,  nor  cast  one  down, — 
As  did  she  of  the  war  long  ago. 

20 


THE  HEART  OF  A  SPANISH  GIRL. 

But   I   would  baptize  the  troops   as  they 

passed, — 
Red    is    for    blood — and    the    dead    are 

white, — 

I  caught  in  my  hands  the  rose-petals  sweet, 
And  they  fell  mid  the  bayonets  bright. 

Some  were  like  blood-drops  on  shoulders 

and  arms, — 

A  white  one  fell  upon  hair  of  brown. 
No    one    seemed    to    notice, — no    eye    met 

mine, — 

The  troops  marched  on  through  the  sad 
old  town. 


TWO  WAYS. 

IF  one  small  cloud  is  in  the  sky, 
Life  seemeth  dark  to  you. 

I  call  life  bright  if  'mid  the  clouds 
I  see  one  bit  of  blue. 


21 


MARPESSA  TO  APOLLO. 

WRITTEN  AFTER  READING    STEPHEN    PHILLIPS'S   "  MARPESSA." 

APOLLO,  thou  who  from  Themis'  hands  hast 
In  childhood  tasted  the  immortal  food — 
Nectar,  ambrosia — that  hast  made  thee  god, — 
Thou  of  the  bow  and  harp,  listen  to  me. 
From  high  Olympus  came  you  to  the  earth 
One  morning  in  the  "  rose-wreathed  summer 
time," 

A  god  in  human  form,  "  divinely  fair." 
Silver-stringed  harp,  by  gentle  Eros  touched, 
Announced  thy  coming  to  a  fountain's  side ; 
And  I  was  straying  with  my  maidens  there, 
A  Grecian  girl  in  trailing  robe  of  white, 
With  wild  acanthus  blossoms  in  my  hair, 
That  rippled  like  the  sunlight  as  it  fell 
About  my  shoulders  to  my  sandaled  feet. 
Apollo, — god,  yet  son  of  Leto  born, — 
You  called  me  fairer  and  more  beautiful 
Than  aught  e'er  was  on  earth,  in  sea  or  sky. 
You  begged  my  love ;  you  craved  me  for  your 
bride; 

22 


MARPESSA  TO  APOLLO. 

You  offered  gift  of  immortality ; 

You  promised  me  that  I  should  ne'er  grow 

old- 
Eternity  my  marriage  ring  should  be 
If  I  would  choose  not  mortal,  but  a  god. 
Apollo,  hear  me,  while  I  tell  to  thee 
That    Idas    I    have    loved    from   childhood's 

days, — 

That  I  ordain  to  be  his  bride,  not  thine, 
E'en  though  a  god  and  beautiful  thou  art. 
I  dread  not  that  the  sunlight  from  my  hair 
Shall  fade  when  twilight  of  my  life  draws  near, 
Nor  that  I  turn  to  marble  if  it  be 
In  sleep  of  death  lies  Idas  at  my  side. 
Apollo,  listen, — hast  thou  never  heard 
That  in  a  temple  built  upon  Mars  Hill 
There  is  an  altar  "  To  the  unknown  God  "  ? 
Him  do  I  worship — "  God  of  Gods  "  He  is. 
He  unto  all  who  dwell  upon  the  earth 
Has  brought  the  boon  you  offer  me, — 
E'en  "  life  and  immortality  to  light."     . 


JAPANESE  BUTTERFLY'S  SONG. 

CHANGED  after  death  was  I 

To  white-winged  butterfly, — 

Ti-si,  my  bride 's  a  star. 

Slight  wings,  you  may  not  rise 
O'er  cherry-blooms  to  skies, — 
To  Ti-si  sweet,  so  far. 

If  I  were  star,  would  she 
On  swift  wings  fly  to  me — 
Up  to  the  bending  skies  ? 

Would  I  were  small  white  cloud, 
That  I  my  bride  might  shroud 
From  the  up-gazing  eyes ! 

My  Ti-si  shines  for  all — 

O  Buddha,  make  her  fall 

Into  a  flower's  heart. 

For  far  I  cannot  fly, 
And  in  the  star-lit  sky, 
Alas !  I  have  no  part. 


"  I  WILL  COME  IN  THE  SPRING." 

"I  WILL  come  in  the  spring1," — 
Oh,  be  still,  throbbing  heart, 
Then  hush  every  sound, — 
Did  I  hear  a  bird  sing? 

On  the  elm  I  see  wings, 
And  a  bright  spot  of  red — 
A  robin ! — a  robin ! — 
Oh,  what  joy  it  brings ! 

It  is  spring !   it  is  spring ! 
Then  rejoice,  lonely  heart. 
He  will  come !  he  will  come ! 
For  I  heard  a  bird  sing. 


THE  MINER'S  LITTLE  DAUGHTER. 

MY  father  dear  works  in  the  mines, 
Down  in  the  tunnels  dark. 

I  sing  so  much  he  often  says 
I  am  his  "  meadow-lark." 

Our  little  cabin  on  the  hill 
Is  'mid  the  tall  straight  pines, 

That  seem  to  whisper  all  the  day 
To  me  about  the  mines. 

I  've  twined  some  vines  about  the  door, 
I  keep  the  house  with  care. 

My  father  calls  our  cabin  home 
His  "  castle  in  the  air." 

I  never  put  my  clean  gown  on 

Till  just  before  our  tea, 
Because  when  father  first  comes  home 

He  's  black  as  black  can  be. 


THE  MINER'S  LITTLE  DAUGHTER. 

And  when  he  's  coming  up  the  trail, — 

As  soon  as  him  I  see, — 
I  fly  to  meet  him, — and  he  leaves 

Some  black,  of  course,  on  me. 

The  man  for  whom  my  father  works 

Is  very  rich,  I  'm  told ; 
For  he  owns  land  and  houses  fine, 

And  mines  just  full  of  gold. 

I  'm  rich, — I  've  treasure  in  the  mines,- 
"  As  good  as  gold  "  is  he, — 

It's  father,  whom  I  love  so  well, — 
My  father,  who  loves  me. 


UNDER  ORANGE-TREES. 

THEY  stood  at  the  twilight  hour 

'Neath  orange-blooms  sweet  and  white, 

Beside  the  blue  tropic  sea, 
In  the  sunset's  golden  light. 

He  gave  her  orange-blossoms, — 

Oh,  mockery  in  the  thought ! 
Grim  iron  fetters  bound  her, — 

Their  sweetness  counted  for  naught. 

The  snowy  waxen  blossoms 

Nestling  fondly  side  by  side 
Should  rest  on  other  tresses, — 

She  could  never  be  his  bride. 


28 


ONLY  IN  SPRINGTIME. 

HYACINTHS  growing  out  in  the  sun, 

Blossoms  of  crimson  and  white  and  blue; 

Flowers  will  bloom  till  the  chill  frosts  come, 
Only  the  springtime  is  given  to  you. 

Beautiful  youth,  so  tall  and  so  fair, 
Loyal  and  loving,  "  tender  and  true," 

Linger  I  on  as  the  seasons  roll, — 

Only  life's  springtime  was  given  to  you. 


29 


A  STAR. 

GLEAMING  like  royal  gem, 
In  sky  soft-tinted  by  the  young  moon's  light, 
Shone  a  bright  star  last  night. 

But  now  't  is  blotted  out 
By  cold  gray  mist,  and  driving,  dashing  rain. 
I  look  for  it  in  vain. 

And  yet  I  know,  when  mist 
And  clouds  are  wafted  by  the  west  wind  far, 
Again  I  '11  see  my  star. 

Sweet  soul,  my  one  bright  star, 
Though  the  mysterious  veil  of  life  environs 

me, 
I  '11  wait  and  watch  for  thee. 


AWAY. 

THE  foils  are  idly  crossed  upon  the  wall, 
Tied  with  a  silken  ribbon  soft  and  wide, 

The  color  that  his  lady  wears — pale  blue ; 
Shakespeare,  much  read,  alas,  is  tossed  aside. 

I  am  the  lady  who  the  pale  blue  wears, 
I  am  his  heroine  in  Shakespeare's  plays. 

Often  I  've  wielded  one  bright  steely  foil, — 
Alone,  I  dream  away  the  autumn  days. 


A  SOUL  EVOKED. 

SUGGESTED  BY  LISTENING  TO  AN  ORGAN  RECITAL  GIVEN  BY 
DR.  H.  J.  STEWART  ON  THE  GRAND  ORGAN  PBESENTED  BY 
MRS.  STANFORD  TO  THE  STANFORD  UNIVERSITY. 

SILENT  the  organ  stood,  mute  was  its  voice, 
As  if  unto  its  shining,  silvered  pipes 
The  vibrant  breath  of  life  had  never  come. 
Hushed  the  expectant  throng.    No  sound  was 

there, 

When  lo !  a  master's  hands  swept  o'er  the  keys. 
A  soul  came  sobbing,  singing  unto  earth, 
Music  exquisite  as  the  song  of  stars. 
Great  waves  of  sound,  like  surf  on  rock-strewn 

shore, 
Thundered  along  the  cold  white  keys,  once 

still, 
Then  rippled  as  does  brook  mid  flower-gemmed 

fields. 
Storms  raged.    In  moonlit  forest  glades  elves 

danced 

To  tiny  tambourines  well  strung  with  bells. 
Like  unseen  choir  the  vox  humana 
Chanted  a  grand  triumphant  hymn  of  praise. 
Soul  to  the  organ  came  that  summer  day. 
A  master's  hand  is  something  half  divine. 


BELLS  OF  VENICE. 

SILENCE  o'er  city  fair, 
Not  a  breeze  sighing. 

Silence  in  palace  old, 
At  the  day's  dying. 

Gold  in  the  sunset  sky, 

And  on  sea  lying, 
Long  lines  of  golden  light 

Like  arrows  flying. 

Boats  on  the  paths  of  blue, 
Blue  sky  o'erbending, 

Silence  o'er  city  fair, 
At  the  day's  ending. 

Lo,  as  with  one  accord, 
From  each  church  tower, 

Ring  bells  melodious 
At  sunset's  hour. 

Silence  unbroken  save 
For  sweet  bells  ringing, 

As  through  the  sunset's  gate 
Day's  flight  is  winging. 

33 


OUT  ON  THE  SANDS. 

FAR  out  on  the  sands  where  the  salt  spray 
breaks, 

Where  seagulls  scream  on  their  lonely  way, 
And  where  ships  go  by,  I  had  rather  be 

Than  here  in  the  city  to-day. 

For  he  wrote  my  name  on  a  rock  that  hangs 
Above  the  breakers  one  summer  day, — 

So  I  'd  rather  be  there  upon  the  sands, 
Than  here  in  the  city  to-day. 


FORGET-ME-NOTS. 

ONE  Sabbath  morning  on  a  crowded  city  street, 
In  her  small  dimpled  hands,  a  girl  with  soft 

brown  eyes 

Held  blue  forget-me-nots — wee  bits  of  sum 
mer  skies. 
Whom  shall  I  not  forget?  questioned  my  soul 

that  day. 

Low  breezes  from  the  tropic  sea  replied — 
"  Forget  not  Him,  the  Lord,  the  Crucified." 


34 


A  DREAM  OF  YOU. 

I  DREAMED  of  you  last  night, — a  happy  dream, — 
That  I  beside  you  walked  where  wild  flowers 
grew, 

Autumn's  blue  asters,  and  the  goldenrod, — 
A  happy  dream  it  was  to  be  with  you. 

And  more  I  dreamed :  that  we  together  watched 
The  sunset  fade,  and  evening's  first  star 

shine 

Pale  in  the  twilight  sky,  then  brighter  grow, — 
That  was  my  dream  of  you,  sweet  friend  of 
mine. 


35 


BRIGHT  STARS  OF  CHRISTMAS  EVE. 

'T  is  Christmas  Eve, — most  holy  time, — 
I  almost  fancy  I  can  hear 
White  coming  wings  to  earth  draw  near, 
As  once  on  Christmas  Eve. 

White  messengers  that  earthward  come, 
Holding  star-torches,  heaven-breeze  fanned, 
Lighting  a  pathway  to  the  land 
Where  Christ  our  Lord  was  born. 

On  that  first  holy  Christmas  Eve — 
As  still  in  far-off  skies  to-night — 
The  Southern  Cross  was  shining  bright, 
Prophetic  of  His  death. 

The  night  rolls  on,  the  stars  grow  white, 
And  lo !  the  Christmas  dawn  is  nigh. 
The  Morning  Star  is  in  the  sky — 
Christ  is  the  Morning  Star. 


EVERY  MORNING. 

FROM  open  window  she  waves  her  hand 
And  follows  me  with  her  eyes  of  blue, 
And  smiles  on  me  as  I  leave  each  day, — 
Aye,  sweet  as  the  angels  do. 

Some  way  on  the  crowded  city's  street, 

And  'mid  whirl  and  strife  for  wealth  and 

fame, 

She  seems  to  me  near,  my  guiding  star, 
Smiling  on  me  just  the  same 

As  from  the  window  where  roses  climb 
She  wafts  a  good-by  to  me  each  day. 
It  is  joy  to  work  for  wealth  and  fame 
At  my  darling's  feet  to  lay. 


37 


DANDELIONS  THREE. 

IN  a  dainty  cup 

Dandelions  three 
Nod  their  pretty  heads, — 

They  were  given  to  me. 

By  a  hand  I  love 

They  were  given  me, 
And  I  placed  them  in  a  cup, 

Dandelions  three. 

Little  sun-browned  hands 
"  Pretty  flowers  "  brought,— 

"  Stars  come  down  from  Heaven- 
In  the  vacant  lot." 

Darling  boy  of  mine, 

Sweet  thy  gift  to  me, 
And  I  placed  them  in  a  cup, 

Dandelions  three. 


YE  PROUDE  LADYE. 

Two  brothers  the  self -same  lady  loved — 

A  lady  as  proud  as  she  was  fair. 
One  craved  "  An  ye  love  me  at  the  ball, 

For  sake  of  my  love,  a  white  rose  wear." 
The  other  begged,  if  him  she  would  wed, 
She  would  twine  in  her  hair  a  rose  of  red. 

They  met  at  the  castle  hall  that  night — 
The  brothers  two  and  "  Ye  lady  faire  " ; 

She  wore  not  the  rose  of  red  or  white, 
But  star  of  jewels  gleamed  in  her  hair. 

And  no  one  knew  that  her  proud  heart  bled, — 

That  she  loved  him  who  gave  her  the  rose  of 
red. 


39 


JAPANESE  FEAST  OF  KITES. 

OUR  kites  we  fly — 
Up  to  the  sky — 

With  a  merry  tune. 
Message  we  send 
Without  an  end — 

Unto  the  moon. 


AT  THE  TEA-HOUSE. 

BESIDE  the  brasier  bending, 
A  Japanese  girl  maketh  tea. 

With  her  small  brown  hands  she  giveth 
A  painted  cup  to  me, — 

Painted  with  cherry  blossoms, 

Filled  to  the  brim  with  tea, 
And  over  the  glowing  brasier 

Sendeth  a  smile  to  me. 


40 


APPLE  BLOSSOMS. 

SHE  gave  to  him  apple  blossoms 
One  day  in  the  sweet  springtime. 

She  did  not  know  their  meaning, 
That  they  whispered,  "  My  heart  is  thine." 

But  he  read  the  sweet  old  story 
In  glance  of  her  blue  eyes  meek 

And  pink  of  apple  blossoms, 
As  it  flitted  across  her  cheek. 


"IT  DOTH  NOT  YET  APPEAR." 

BULBS  of  the  hyacinths,  brown,  unlovely, 

Only  March  days  are  here. 
What  you  will  be  in  the  summer  weather 

Doth  not  as  yet  appear. 

Lo !  it  is  June,  and  out  in  the  garden, 
Wrapped  in  the  golden  light, 

Blossoms  there  are  of  infinite  beauty, 
Hyacinths  blue  and  white. 


ANOTHER  AUTUMN. 

THE  autumn  leaves  are  falling  ruby  and  golden 

I  know, 
And  the  hills  are  circling  rainbows  as  they 

were  in  the  long  ago. 
Is  the  sky  as  blue?  I  wonder.    Does  the  sun 

as  brightly  shine 
As  it  did  in  the  long-past  autumn  when  you 

told  me  your  heart  was  mine  ? 

Alas,  the  leaves  soon  faded  that  had  fluttered 

golden  down, 
And  lay  on  the  earth  wet  and  sodden,  or  crisp 

and  brittle  and  brown. 
The  hills  that  were  bright  like  rainbows  were 

hidden  by  the  snow, 
And  forgotten  the  words  you  uttered  on  that 

autumn  day  long  ago. 


SAFE. 

AT  the  ebb  of  the  tide  a  stately  ship 
Sailed  away  to  the  southern  coast. 

In  the  moonlight  pale,  with  its  sails  unfurled, 
It  seemed  but  a  white-sheeted  ghost. 

On  the  midnight  tide  it  drifted  away, 

Far  away  on  the  trackless  main. 
The  stars  shone  bright,  but  the  cold  night  wind 
wailed, 

"  It  will  never  come  back  again." 


The  ship  came  back  from  the  sunny  south  coast 
Like  a  bird  with  its  white  wings  spread. 

The  morning  sun  made  the  sea  like  gold, 
The  wind  with  its  warning  had  fled. 


43 


I  WONDER  WHY. 

THIS  morning,  as  I  sat  upon  the  steps, 

A  stranger  smiled  on  me  and  said,   "  Blue 

violets." 
I  wonder  why. 

My  teacher  looked  on  me  most  sweet  to-day 
And  said,  "  Sometimes  God  lets  an  angel  cheer 

our  way." 
I  wonder  why. 

And  Jesus  Christ,  who  loves  the  world  so  much, 
Said  of  a  little  child,  "  My  Kingdom  is  of 

such." 
I  wonder  why. 


44 


APART. 

HE  said,  "  We  shall  no  longer 

Walk  side  by  side." 
For  her  the  pathway  narrow, 

For  him  the  wide. 

'Mid  storm-swept  skies,  like  fright 
ened  eyes, 

Two  bright  stars  shone ; 
While  fitful  breeze  through  forest 

trees, 
For  her  made  moan. 


45 


MY  HEART'S  JOURNEY. 

OVER  the  wall  of  mountains  grand 
My  fond  heart  has  wandered  to-day, 

And  over  gray  and  arid  plains 
It  has  gone  on  its  lonely  way. 

It  paused  and  gazed  from  mountain  steeps 

On  a  city  beside  the  sea, 
Then  sadly  turned,  this  heart  of  mine, 

And  has  wandered  back  unto  me. 


SING  A  SONG. 

SING  a  song,  sing  a  song  in  the  morning, 
For  the  night  has  vanished  away. 

Sing  a  song,  sing  a  song  in  the  morning, 
A  song  to  the  beautiful  day. 

Sing  a  song,  sing  a  song  in  the  evening, 
Thou  hast  been  His  care  all  the  day. 

Sing  a  song,  sing  a  song  in  the  evening, 
A  farewell  to  beautiful  day. 


IN  AN  OLD  CATHEDRAL  TOWN. 

AFAR  in  a  foreign  land 

A  maiden  knelt  in  prayer. 
Through  painted  window  a  sunbeam  strayed 

And  kissed  her  beautiful  hair. 

She  knelt  in  the  pew  alone, 

In  her  dainty  silken  gown; 
A  traveler  lingered  that  Sabbath  day 

In  the  old  cathedral  town. 

He  knelt — blest  fate ! — at  her  side, 

With  grave  and  reverent  air ; 
But  thought  of  angels  with  soft  blue  eyes, 

And  with  waving  golden  hair. 

When  he  passed  outside  the  church, 
Though  bright  the  morning  sun  shone, 

He  felt  he  had  left  heaven  and  gone 
Out  into  the  world  alone. 


47 


ALL   SOULS'   EVE. 

I  AM  all  alone  in  my  room  to-night, 

It  is  "  All  Souls'  Eve,"  when  they  say  the 

dead 
For  a  single  night  can  revisit  earth, 

And  then  go  back  to  their  lone  churchyard 
bed. 

Outside  of  the  house  the  autumn  wind  blows — 
(Do  I  hear  the  sound  of  the  garden  gate?) 

I  have  decked  the  room  with  flowers  they  love. 
The  day  is  gone,  and  the  hour  is  late. 

Down  Memory's  pathway  they  come  to  me — 
My  soldier-father,  and,  close  at  his  side, 

My  golden-haired  mother,  who  left  her  child 
When  the  cruel  words  came  that  he  had  died. 

Sad  I  knelt  before  the  crucifix  white, 
And  cried,  "  Oh,  mother,  I  am  all  alone ! 

There  is  no  one  to  love  me ;  let  me  go 

To-night  with  you  to  your  heavenly  home." 
48 


ALL  SOULS'   EVE. 

I  heard  the  sound  of  the  garden  gate,  and- 
"  Bernadine,  Bernadine,  listen  to  me ! 

I,  Ludovic,  swear  by  the  holy  dead, 
Of  all  the  wide  world,  I  love  but  thee." 


49 


A  DESERT  ROSE. 

THE  little  pink  cloud 
Of  a  summer  day, 

Afloat  and  adrift 
On  the  azure  way, 

Fell  o'er  the  desert, 
Where  lonely  it  grows, 

Afar  from  skyland, 
The  pretty  wild  rose. 


AN  APRIL  SNOWFLAKE. 

THE  apple-blossoms  held  pink-white  cups 

To  catch  the  April  shower, 
When  out  from  a  cloud  came  floating  down 

A  tiny  crystal  flower. 
'T  was  only  a  little  snowflake  star 

That  shone  like  a  jewel  bright, 
As  the  sun  peeped  out  between  the  clouds 

To  smile  on  the  snow-star's  flight. 
It  gleamed  for  a  moment  in  warm  sunlight, 

Then  changed  to  a  tear  in   a   flower-cup 
white. 


BARBARITA. 

PRETTY  Barbarita, 

With  her  big  brown  eyes,- 
Nothing  can  be  sweeter 

Under  blue  of  skies. 

Merry  Barbarita, — 

Brown  eyes  full  of  fun, 

From  the  Day  Star's  paling 
Till  the  set  of  sun. 

Loving  Barbarita, 

Kind  her  words  to  all ; 
Often  tears  for  others 

From  her  brown  eyes  fall. 

Pretty  Barbarita, — 

Dear  she  is  to  me, 
Child  of  tropic  country, 

By  the  sunset  sea. 


ONLY  A  GLANCE. 

A  WHITE  rose  fell  from  my  lady's  bouquet, 
As  she  airily  floated  by  in  the  dance; 

I  rescued  it  from  hurrying  feet, 
And  my  lady  gave  me  a  glance. 

Only  a  glance  my  lady  gave, 

As  she  airily  floated  down  the  room, 

But  the  tender  promise  it  contained 
Was  sweet  as  the  flower's  perfume. 


CAST  ASIDE. 

A  BABY  sitting  in  the  sunshine  on  the  floor, 
Tried  with  her  dimpled  hands  to  brush  the 

sunbeams  from  her  dress; 
So,  sitting  in  life's  sunshine,  we  oft  cast  aside 
With  thoughtless  hands,  counting  as  naught, 
the  brightness  sent  to  bless. 


53 


GOOD-BY,  SWEET  DAY. 

THOU  up  the  twilight  hills  art  trailing — 

Good-by,  sweet  day. 
Take  of  the  earth  its  fairest  givings 

Upon  thy  way. 

Soon  on  the  heights  wilt  thou  be  standing, 

From  earth  afar, 
Lighting,  to  cheer  thy  onward  going, 

Evening's  first  star. 

Thou  wilt  come  back  to  us,  ah !  never, — 

Thy  work  is  done. 
Joined  thou  the  days  departed 

At  set  of  sun. 

Thou  didst  hear  sobs  and  sound  of  crying — 

Cries  all  in  vain; 
Thou  heardst  the  joy  of  some,  the  laughter, 

In  thy  brief  reign. 

I  watch  thy  pathway  by  the  lighting 

Of  star  and  star. 
To-morrow's  hands  the  gates  of  opal 

Soon  will  unbar. 

54 


COME  INTO  THE  SUNSHINE. 

I  STOOD  at  my  eastern  window, — 
O'er  me  billows  of  sunshine  rolled. 

I  held  out  my  hands  to  fair  Morning ; 
She  filled  them  with  pure  shining  gold. 

I  turned  to  share  it  with  you,  dear, — 
You  who  sat  in  the  shadows  gray, — 

But  the  laughing,  dancing  sunbeams 
To  the  rose-vine  fluttered  away. 

Come  thou  to  the  eastern  window, 
To  the  sun-god  thy  white  hands  hold ; 

He  will  garland  thee  with  gladness, 
He  will  fill  thy  hands  with  pure  gold. 


55 


EASTER  SONG. 

THE  trees  are  all  a-bloom, 
And  happy  wild  birds  sing 

Earth's  resurrection  song, — 
Ring,  Bells  of  Easter,  ring! 

Ye  have  glad  news,  O  Bells, 
Song  sweet  as  wild  birds  sing. 

That  Christ  the  Crucified 
Is  now  the  risen  King. 

His  Kingdom,  not  of  earth, 
To  all  the  world  make  known ; 

Ring  thou  of  Faith  and  Hope, 
Two  angels  near  His  throne. 

The  trees  are  all  a-bloom, 
And  happy  wild  birds  sing 

Earth's  resurrection  song, — 
Ring,  Bells  of  Easter,  ring! 


"  THE  HAUNTED." 
"  Come  out  of  the  past;  it  is  haunted." 

I  LOVE  to  go  back  to  "  The  Haunted," 
For  pleasant  the  pathways  are  there. 

I  meet  in  them  father  and  mother, 
My  land  of  "  The  Haunted  "  is  fair. 

It  holds  for  me  gay  childish  laughter, 
And  love  that  was  constant  and  true. 

My  past  is  a  land  of  pink  roses, 

Where  happy  I  walked,  dear,  with  you. 

It  lies  upon  beautiful  headlands 
O'erhanging  a  blue  summer  sea, 

With  white  sail  of  Faith  'gainst  the  sunset, 
And  Hope  on  the  white  waves  for  me. 


57 


TELL  ME,  O  YE  VIOLETS. 

TELL  me,  O  ye  violets, — 
I  bought  you  on  the  street, — 

Tell  of  your  home  'neath  shelt'ring  leaves, 
O  sapphire  blossoms  sweet ! 

Make  in  the  volume  of  my  life 

A  painted  page  most  fair, 
Tinted  in  deepest  blue  of  skies 

When  stars  are  shining  there. 

Oh,  tell  me,  violets  of  blue, 

That  grow  in  forest  glade, 
Why  must  your  perfume  float  away  ? 

Why  must  your  beauty  fade? 

This  is  your  answer  unto  me : 

"  We  fade,  but  never  die ; 
Our  perfume  is  our  life,  our  soul, 

It  wings  its  way  on  high." 


PATIENCE. 

I  LOVE  the  girl  with  the  kind  dark  eyes 
And  quaint  Colonial  name; 

In  days  when  the  sun  shone  not  for  me 
Into  my  sad  life  she  came, — 

Came  as  a  star  comes  to  midnight  skies, 
Rising  up  out  of  the  sea, — 

Sweet,  brave  child  of  the  Puritan  race, 
Tender  my  love  is  for  thee. 


59 


FLOWER  FORTUNE-TELLERS. 

"  FORTUNE-TELLERS  of  the  flowers, 

Daisies  with  hearts  of  gold, 
Down  to  the  fields  I  've  come,"  she  said ; 

"  Think  me  not  over-bold. 

"  Daisies,  will  you  my  fortune  tell  ? 

Tell  if  John  I  shall  wed?" 
Over  the  field  the  west  wind  swept; 

Each  daisy  bowed  its  head. 

"  Down  in  the  meadow,  by  the  brook, 

John  is  tossing  the  hay. 
Daisies,  daisies,  I  love  him  well ; 

Tell,  does  he  love  me,  pray?" 

One  field  daisy  of  white  and  gold — 

One  of  the  gipsy  band — 
Chose  she  from  them,  and  held  it  close 

Clasped  in  her  small  brown  hand. 
60 


FLOWER  FORTUNE-TELLERS. 

"  One  white  petal — he  loves,"  she  said ; 

"  Two — he  loves  not," — when  lo ! 
John  from  the  field,  unseen  by  her, 

Came  in  the  sunset's  glow, — 

Came  from  the  field — the  hay  was  spread- 
Daisies,  what  did  he  do? 

Captured  her  small  brown  hand  and  said, 
"  Sweet  playmate,  I  love  you." 

Daisies,  daisies,  her  fortune  you  told; 

Some  day  John  she  will  wed. 
Over  the  field  the  west  wind  swept — 

Each  daisy  bowed  its  head. 


61 


A  DREAM. 

I  DREAMED  the  chariot-wheels  of  Time  had 

ceased  to  roll; 
That  the  blue  heavens  were  parted  like  a  riven 

scroll ; 

That  holy  angels  with  bright  shining  hair 
Floating  about  them  in  the  summer  air, 
God's  messengers  from  the  heavenly  land, 
Had  wandered  down  to  earth  from  His  right 

hand. 

The  sea  gave  up  its  dead  from  parted  waves, 
Like  lilies  fair  the  dead  forsook  their  graves. 
My  mother,  radiant  as  evening's  star, 
I  saw,  smiling  upon  me  from  afar. 
I  heard  a  voice  of  majesty  that  cried, — 
"  Come  all  who  love  the  Lord,  the  Crucified." 
I  hastened  to  the  grave  of  one  I  love, — 
It  was  unchanged,  the  tall  grass  waved  above, 
And  violets  still  threaded  wreaths  of  blue, 
And  sunbeams  turned  to  jewel  drops  of  dew. 

62 


A  DREAM. 

I  whispered  softly,  "  Wake,  Love ;  come  with 

me: 

'T  is  morning,  Love ;  hasten,  I  wait  for  thee." 
I  threw  myself  upon  his  fast-sealed  grave ; 
Above  the  heart  I  thought  so  good  and  brave 
I  begged  grim  Death  his  iron  chains  to  burst. 
A  voice  proclaimed,  "  The  dead  in  Christ  rise 

first." 


NO  SEER  CAN  TELL  THEE. 

FATE  is  the  unfolding, 

As  of  a  rose, — 
Wait  till  its  petals  sweet 

Time  shall  disclose. 

Green  bud  cannot  reveal 

The  rose  to  thee. 
Suns  must  arise  and  set 

E'er  thou  shalt  see 

If  the  full  rose  is  white, — 

As  for  the  dead, — 
Or  come  for  life's  sweet  joys 

A  rose  of  red. 

Seers  cannot  read  thy  fate — 

What  it  shall  be. 
Years  as  a  rose  unfold 

Thy  fate  to  thee. 


64 


ITALIAN   FISHERMAN'S   SONG. 

"K  DEL  MIO  CUORE  LA  CARINA."  * 

SUNSET'S  bright  hour  and  vesper-bells  ringing, 
Brown  lateen-sail  and  a  fisherman  singing, — 
"  E  del  mio  cuore  la  carina," — 
An  incoming  boat  on  the  white  harbor  bar. 

Down  'neath  blue  billows  the  golden  sun  dying, 
Wine-tinted,  lights  on  sapphire  sea  lying, — 
"  E  del  mio  cuore  la  carina," — 
Sweet  song  of  the  fisherman,  near,  then  afar. 

Cries  of  wild  seagulls  o'er  twilight  sea  wing 
ing— 

Sweet  song  of  Italian  fisherman  singing, — 
"  E  del  mio  cuore  la  carina," — 
A  brown  lateen-sail  beneath  evening's  first  star. 

*"  She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart." 


WHY? 

BLUE  skies  smiled  on  the  world  below, 
And  down  the  hillside,  dancing  bright, 
Came  a  gay  cascade  of  gleaming  gems, 
Strung  upon  yellow  threads  of  light. 
The  wild  birds  sang  a  glad,  glad  song, 
And  clover  bowed  to  daisies  white ; 
For  God  loved  all,  and  all  loved  God, 
And  each  was  loved  by  the  other. 
So  that  was  why  the  blue  sky  smiled, 
And  down  the  hills  came,  dancing  bright, 
A  gay  cascade  of  gleaming  gems, 
Strung  upon  yellow  threads  of  light, — 
Why  wild  birds  sang  a  glad,  glad  song, 
And  clover  bowed  to  daisies  white. 


66 


BEFORE  THE  SUN  GOES  DOWN. 

BATHED  is  the  western  sky  in  glory, 
Soon  will  go  down  the  sun. 

Be  reconciled  unto  thy  brother, 
E'er  yet  the  day  is  done. 

Lest  thou  shalt  pine  alone  in  prison, 
Shut  from  his  love  away, 

Be  reconciled — the  west  is  golden 
Before  the  close  of  day. 


67 


THEY  ARE  WAITING  FOR  ME. 

GOOD-BY!  I  will  hasten  homeward; 

I  Ve  friends  come  a  visit  to  pay — 
Three  beautiful  tulip  sisters — 

Fair  Persians.    I  '11  hasten  away. 

And  there  is  a  branch  of  blossoms, 
Like  rose-light  falling  on  snow. 

They  came  to  me  as  from  Eden, — 
I  really  and  truly  must  go. 

Besides,    there 's   a   bright   band   of 
poppies, 

As  brilliant  as  brilliant  can  be ; 
I  love  my  flower-friends  dearly, — 

Good-by !  they  are  waiting  for  me. 


68 


GHOST  OF  A  DAY. 

WHY  do  I  sob  and  weep  ? 

Why  do  I  bow  my  head? 
Why  do  I  cry  "  Come  back !  " 

Unto  a  day  long  dead? — 

Cry  to  its  ghost  to  come. 

Like  white  mist  from  the  sea, — 
Wrapped  in  oblivion, 

Bid  it  return  to  me  ? 

It  was  a  day  that  brought 
His  presence  to  me  nigh; 

So  to  the  bright  day  gone, 

"  Come  back,  come  back !  "  I  cry. 

Lead  with  your  cold  white  hand 

Him  once  again  to  me. 
Day  that  his  presence  held, 

I  cry,  I  cry  to  thee. 

Beg  and  implore  and  cry, — 

Listen  to  me,  I  pray ; 
Bring  him  again  to  me, 

Ghost  of  an  autumn  day. 

69 


THE  COMING  OF  DAWN. 

THE  lights  are  dim  on  the  city's  streets, 

The  sky  is  the  palest  of  opaline  gray, 
Quiet  the  town,  no  bird  is  astir 

To  herald  the  coming  of  beautiful  day. 
But  a  waning  moon  is  in  the  sky, 

A  crescent  of  gold  on  the  pale-tinted 

gray, 
The  Morning  Star  is  aflame,  afloat, 

And  the  ghostly  white  stars  are  fading 
away. 


70 


TELL  ME. 

Is  YOUR  story  like  to  mine  ? 

Have  you  longed  and  tried  to  know 
Where  the  souls  of  those  we  love 

On  their  long  last  journey  go? 
Do  you  half  believe  and  hope 

That  the  stars  before  us  spread 
Are  the  "  many,  many  mansions  " 

Where  they  dwell,  our  sainted  dead  ? 


CHANGED. 

THE  fairies  whispered  in  "  merrie  May," 
"  Come,  it  is  springtime," — flowers  fair 

And  sweetest  blossoms  of  pink  and  white 
Covered  the  branches  brown  and  bare. 

Gay  dandelions  in  meadows  gleamed, 
Daisies  swayed  at  a  fairy's  fan, 

And  over  the  hills  and  in  the  glades 
There  was  heard  the  soft  pipes  of  Pan. 

Bees  buzzed  about  among  the  flowers 
With  cheerful  cheery,  constant  sound, 

And  the  wee  birds  sang  their  souls  away 
To  the  loving  hearts  they  had  found. 

But  the  golden  dandelions  now 
Are  fluffy  bits  of  browny  fuzz, 

And  the  bees  that  kissed  the  flowers  fair 
Have  lost  their  cheerful,  cheery  buzz. 

72 


CHANGED. 

In  the  hearts  of  yellow  roses  they 
Drone  a  drowsy,  a  dreamy  tune, — 

All  about  honey,  honey  so  sweet, 
In  the  midday  hours  of  June. 

Birds  have  forgotten  their  sweet  love-notes ; 

They  sing  a  fledgling  lullaby, 
And  ofttimes  clouds  like  black-winged  birds 

Sweep  over  the  soft  azure  sky. 

June  has  roses — fairest  of  flowers — 
And  the  sweetness  of  new-mown  hay, 

But  for  fairy-like,  fragile  beauty, 
There  is  never  a  month  like  May. 


73 


A  TRYST. 

A  GATE  of  scarlet  in  the  west 
Shuts  out  the  autumn  day, — 

A  gate  with  bars  of  amethyst, 
And  sunset's  opal  gray. 

Keeping  a  tryst  outside  the  gate, 
Is  Day  in  robes  of  white. 

We  call  it  twilight  when  she  meets 
Her  somber  lover,  Night. 


74 


"  NO  LOVE  FOR  ME." 

ENGLISH  YOUTH'S  SONG. 

I  CALL  her  "  Cherry  Blossom  " 
And  "  Golden  Butterfly," 

But  to  Keti  of  Japan 
Barbarian  am  I. 

She  plays  the  sanisen; 

Weird  and  wild  is  her  cry ; 
No  love  for  me  in  her  song, — 

Barbarian  am  I. 

Her  song  is  of  a  youth, — 
"  I  will  love  him  till  I  die." 

He  is  a  youth  of  Japan, 
Barbarian  am  I. 


75 


SAN  JUAN  BY  THE  SEA. 

I  SAW  thee  in  the  sunset, 

Fair  San  Juan  by  the  sea, 
Like  a  golden  band  of  glory 

Looked  the  western  sky  to  me. 
The  deep  blue  of  the  waters 

Met  the  orange  of  the  sky 
That  melted  into  palest  gold 

Where  one  star  shone  out  on  high. 


TO  "  BROWN-EYES." 

LIFE  is  a  strange  sweet  thing,  baby, 
Wee  darling  with  soulful  brown  eyes. 

Ofttimes  it  leads  among  roses, 
'Neath  arches  of  bending  blue  skies. 

Sometimes  it  stays  'mid  the  shadows, 
But  where'er  thy  life-path  may  be. 

God  bless  thee,  and  make  thee  a  blessing, 
Is  my  wish,  sweet  "  Brown-Eyes,"  for 
thee. 


76 


ALONE. 

BLUE  was  the  sky  that  Sabbath  morning, 
Radiantly  the  yellow  sunbeams  shone, 

In  clinging  dress  of  somber  darkness, 
To  church  I  walked  alone. 

Gray  shadows  were  in  arches  hiding, 

Sadly  I  bowed  before  the  Father's  throne, 

Around  were  many  happy  faces, 
Alas!  I  was  alone. 

A  voice  like  that  of  angel  singing 

Soared  like  a  bird  among  the  rafters  high: 
"  Again  you  '11  have  your  own, — be  patient, — 

Be  patient, — by  and  by." 

Into  the  blessed  sunshine  going, 

I  echoed,  comforted,  the  glad,  glad  cry : 

"  Again  you  '11  have  your  own, — be  patient, — 
Be  patient, — by  and  by." 


77 


DISCOVERY  OF  THE  SUNSHINE 
MINE. 

I  HAD  left  the  tired  miners 

When  the  sun  was  turning  to  gold, 
The  long  line  of  purple  mountains, 

And  the  tall  peaks  rugged  and  bold. 

I  was  just  a  toiling  miner 

At  work  on  the  "  Eagle's  Wing  "  claim, 
Searching,  alas,  searching  vainly, 

Yet  hoping  and  toiling  the  same. 

Upon  my  shoulder  I  carried 

Pick  and  shovel  that  day  in  June ; 

All  down  the  trail  to  the  cabin, 
I  was  whistling  a  merry  tune. 

I  gleefully  called,  "  Come,  Sunshine," — 
No  golden-haired  girl  could  I  see ; 

When  the  sun  shone  down  Blue  Canyon 
She  was  always  waiting  for  me. 
78 


DISCOVERY  OF  THE  SUNSHINE  MINE. 

The  sunlight  fell  on  the  cabin 
And  danced  in  the  open  door, 

A  slanting  pathway  of  glory 

It  made  on  the  rude  wooden  floor. 

No  answer  but  silence,  silence, 
Save  the  cry  of  a  lonely  bird, 

And  the  summer  breezes  sighing 

Through  the  tree-tops  was  all  I  heard. 

In  yesterday's  fair  June  weather, 

Up  the  canyon,  rock-strewn  and  wide, 

To  find  the  first  wild  columbines 
We  had  wandered  at  eventide. 

As  swift  as  a  bullet  that  flies 
From  gun  to  the  heart  of  a  deer, 

As  crushing,  stunning,  and  hopeless 
Came  to  me  the  terrible  fear — 

That  Sunshine  in  search  of  flowers 
Up  the  trail  had  wandered  away, 

And  I,  who  had  forgotten  God, 
In  my  agony  knelt  to  pray. 

79 


DISCOVERY  OF  THE  SUNSHINE  MINE. 

I  thought  of  the  icy-cold  winds 

From  peaks  of  eternal  snow, 
Of  cruel,  hungry,  prowling  wolves, 

And  of  chasms  that  yawned  below. 

Half-dazed  with  terror  I  stumbled 
Up  the  canyon,  wild  with  despair, 

To  search  for  my  little  daughter, 

My  Sunshine  with  bright  golden  hair. 

Heart-broken  I  wandered  onward ; 

I  begged  the  sun  longer  to  stay, 
The  night  not  to  wrap  its  black  arms 

Round  the  mountain's  dangerous  way. 

Something  bright  gleamed  just  before  me 
Where  the  first  wild  columbines  grew, 

I  gathered  it  close  to  my  heart, 
'T  was  a  small  worn  copper-toed  shoe. 

Around  a  bowlder  I  hastened, 
And  there  among  the  wild  flowers, 

Filling  her  little  checked  apron, 

My  Sunshine  had  wandered  for  hours. 
80 


DISCOVERY  OF  THE  SUNSHINE  MINE. 

"  I  was  lost,  papa,  and  frightened," 

Sunshine  sobbed,  and — and  I  sobbed  too. 

"  I  came  up  the  canyon,  papa, 
To  find  pretty  flowers  for  you. 

"  Down  there  is  my  shoe,"  said  Sunshine. 

It  was  where  a  stream  used  to  run. 
A  silvery,  gliding  serpent, 

It  had  seemed  in  the  summer  sun. 

Down  the  deep  ravine  I  hastened, 
To  bring  back  the  little  worn  shoe, 

Sobbing,  I  struck  with  pick  the  rocks, 
As  any  old  miner  would  do. 

I  had  shattered  gold-bearing  quartz, — 
Through  its  heart  ran  a  golden  line, — 

'T  is  the  richest  claim  in  the  State, 
And  I  call  it  "  The  Sunshine  Mine." 


81 


WOULD  THE  SUN  SHINE? 

WOULD  the  sun  shine  as  bright  as  now, 
Dear  heart,  if  you  were  gone  ? 
Would  birds  upon  the  trees 
Forget  their  song? 
Would  flowers  bloom? 
Would  soft  winds  whisper  to  the  sea? 
Would  hearts  be  merry,  light,  and  gay  ? 
Could  such  things  be? 

I  know  the  sun  would  shine  as  bright, 
Dear  heart,  if  you  were  gone. 
The  happy  birds  would  not 
Forget  their  song. 
Flowers  would  bloom, 
Soft  winds  would  whisper  to  the  sea, 
To  many  life  would  be  as  sweet, 
But  not  to  me. 


82 


NEW  YEAR'S  EVE. 

THE  endless  years  are  only  beads 
Strung  on  the  threads  of  time, 

And  some  are  bright  like  golden  ones, 
And  some  like  amber  clear, 

While  others  seem  like  moulten  lead. 
And  dimmed  by  many  a  tear. 

To-night  I  held  a  shining  bead, 

And  with  reluctant  hand 
I  grasped  the  new,  and  like  a  nun 

O'er  it  I  said  a  prayer, 
If  golden  bright  or  inky  black, 

I  begged  the  Father's  care. 


THE  RAGMAN. 

A  RAGMAN  driving  a  horse  of  gray, 
Cries  through  the  alleys  every  day : 
"  Sacks  and  umbrellas,  paper  and  bags, 
Bits  of  old  iron,  bottles  and  rags." 

Oh,  I  wonder  what  the  ragman  feels  ? 
Does  his  heart  thrill  at  the  blue  of 

skies  ? 

The  ripple  of  sunlight  on  the  hills  ? 
The  tender  light  in  a  dear  child's  eyes  ? 

I  wonder  if  he  ever  notes 

The  rose  that  climbs  o'er  the  garden 

wall? 

Or  counts  the  petals  of  faintest  pink 
As  one  by  one  through  the  air  they  fall  ? 

Is    his    life    threaded    with    day-time 

dreams  ? 

Or  is  it  really  just  what  it  seems, — 
"  Sacks  and  umbrellas,  paper  and  bags, 
Bits  of  old  iron,  bottles  and  rags  "  ? 


THERE'S  FROST  UPON  THE  PANE. 

THERE  's  frost  upon  the  pane, 
Cold,  lusterless,  and  white. 

No  sunbeams  glance  and  play, — 
'T  is  almost  night. 

My  window  looketh  east ; 

The  night  hath  fled  away. 
Lo,  glory  gilds  the  pane, 

Again  't  is  day. 

Frost  lies  upon  my  life; 

I  saw  him  cold  and  white. 
Through  life's  long  night  I  wait 

For  morning's  light. 


85 


AN  IDEAL  LOVE. 

SWEETHEART,  "  the  world  is  wide," 
I  wonder  where  you  stay — 

If  you  are  near  to  me, 
If  you  are  far  away  ? 

I  know  your  eyes  are  brown, 
Your  face  is  girlish  fair, 

That  dimpled  are  your  cheeks, 
And  pale  gold  is  your  hair. 

Although  "  the  world  is  wide," 

Wherever  you  may  be, 
I  '11  trust  the  hand  of  Fate 

To  lead  you  unto  me. 


86 


BABY-BLUE-EYES. 

A    WILD    FLOWER    OF    CALIFORNIA. 

FAIR  azure  flowers  of  the  summertide, 
Blossoms  that  mirror  the  blue  of  the  skies 
And  sapphire  of  sea, — baby-blue-eyes, — 
That  wreathe  with  beauty  the  sunny  hillside 
And  thread  through  valleys  a  flowery  way, — 
Thou  seem'st  fallen  bits  of  the  skies  of  blue 
That  fell  to  the  earth  when  the  stars  shot 

through 

With  lances  of  light,  on  Creation's  day, 
The  pavement  of  heaven  and  the  roof  of  earth. 
Thou  whispereth  of  dear  childish  faces, 
Of  baby-blue  eyes,  and  winning  graces, 
Of  little  ones  gathered  around  the  hearth ; 
Aye,  whisper  of  unforgotten  blue  eyes 
That  closed  to  waken  'neath  heavenly  skies. 


SUNSHINE  LAND. 

CALIFORNIA. 

WHEN  wee  Cupid  hunting  goes 

In  this  land  so  fair, — 
Cupid  with  white  wings  like  snow 

And  soft  waving  hair, — 

He  a  tiny  arrow  tips 
With  a  sunbeam  bright, 

And  from  bended  bow  it  flies 
Like  a  thread  of  light, 

Binding  the  fair  maiden's  heart 

With  a  chain  of  gold. 
Love  from  arrow  sunbeam-tipped 

Never  can  grow  cold. 


88 


ALONE. 

WHAT  is  there  left  for  me,  sad  heart  ? 

The  flower-gemmed  earth  for  my  feet  to 

press, 

The  blue  of  skies,  and  the  sapphire  sea, 
But  never  a  fond  caress. 

What  is  there  left  for  me,  sad  heart  ? 

The  star-paved  heavens  and  the  pale  moon 
light, 

But  a  voice  is  still,  and  the  eyes  I  love 
Are  hidden  away  from  sight. 


NASTURTIONS. 

THERE  is  a  garden 
Small  but  most  fair, 

And  gay  nasturtions 
Run  riot  there. 

They  climb  the  fences, 
Trail  on  the  ground, 

And  wreathe  with  beauty 
Tall  trees  around. 

They  're  prisoned  sunshine 
Come  here  to  stay, 

From  some  bright  planet, 
To  make  earth  gay. 


90 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD. 

THE  lights  of  yester-eve's  banquet-hall 

Went  out  at  the  coming  of  day ; 
And  songs  and  words  of  the  festal  night 

On  the  dawn-breeze  floated  away. 
But  the  stars  a-lighted  in  ages  gone 

Have  failed  not,  nor  grown  less  bright, 
And  words  of  the  Christ  still  hold  men's 
hearts, 

Of  the  world  He  is  still  the  Light. 


ALONG  THE  WAY. 

ALONG  the  way,  with  daisies  flecked, 

The  grassy  meadows  lie, 
And  like  a  canopy  of  blue 

Spreads  the  soft  summer  sky. 

Between  the  white-barked  sycamores 

A  river  glides  along, 
Its  rhythm  making  melody, 

Nature's  unwritten  song. 

Along  the  way  are  mountains  tall 
And  lakes  like  mirrors  clear, 

And  piny  woods  with  tangled  boughs, 
Whence  peep  the  timid  deer. 

A  vision  fair  of  sapphire  sea, 
Unfolds  from  mountain  heights, 

Dotted  with  fluttering  sails  that  seem 
Sea-birds  in  sudden  flight. 

92 


ALONG  THE  WAY. 

And  a  fair  city  o'er  the  sea, 
Where  sunset  glories  stay, 

Which  fills  the  traveler  with  thoughts 
Of  Home  along  the  way. 

Along  the  way,  down  sunny  slopes, 

Are  vines  and  olive  trees, 
And  feathery  palms,  and  tropic  ferns, 

Stirred  by  the  southern  breeze. 

And  those  who  love  each  other  walk 

Together  day  by  day. 
Though  fair  the  City  at  the  end, 

Full  pleasant  is  the  way. 


93 


THE  HELMET. 

THERE'S  a  helmet  on  the  shelf 

Looking  very  brave  and  bold, 
Made  of  pasteboard  strong  and 

stiff, 

Trimmed  with  ribbons  of  bright 
gold. 

'Neath  the  helmet  I  can  see 
A  soldierly  young  face, 

The  light  of  his  bright  eyes, 
His  motions  full  of  grace, 

As  he  led  "  the  volunteers  " 
On  Washington's  Birthday, — 

How  still  the  helmet  lies ! — 
For  the  soldier  is  away. 


NEW  YEAR  FANCIES. 

FORGETTING  the  past,  with  its  dreams 

That  faded  away 
Like  the  dazzling  orange  and  scarlet  of  sunset 

That  came  not  to  stay. 

The  fleecy  white  clouds  you  fancied 

Were  castles  most  fair, 

With  towers  and  turrets,  with  banners  of  sun 
beams 

Afloat  in  the  air. 

Forgetting  the  past,  with  its  dreams 

Like  tales  that  are  told, 

Dream  dreams  brighter,  aye,  fairer,  than  ever 
before 

In  years  now  grown  old. 


95 


QUESTIONINGS. 

THE  season  is  over,  fair  lady, 

With  its  music,  its  brightness,  its  glow ; 
The  meadows  are  covered  with  flowers, 

And  the  apple-blooms  fall  white  like 
snow. 

You  were  quite  the  belle  of  the  season, 
In  each  gay  festive  scene  you  had  part. 

Has  it  brought  to  you  the  devotion 
Of  one  loving,  true,  loyal  heart  ? 


"  FOREVER  AND  A  DAY." 

I  WILL  love  you,  sweetheart, 

"  Forever  and  a  day." 
"  Forever  means  for  all  time," — 

You  ask,  "Why  add  a  day?" 

Day  is  when  the  sun  shines; 

So,  sweetheart,  do  n't  you  see 
I  will  love  you  always, 

And  in  life's  sunshine  be  ? 


97 


GOLDEN  GATE  PARK  IN  MIDWINTER. 

SAN    FRANCISCO. 

THE  dewdrops  hang  on  the  bending  grass, 

A  dragon-fly  cuts  a  sunbeam  through, 
The  moaning  cypress-trees  lift  somber  arms 

Up  to  skies  of  cloudless  blue. 
A  humming-bird  sips  from  a  golden  cup, 

In  the  hedge  a  hidden  bird  sings, 
And  a  butterfly  among  the  flowers 

Tells  me  that  the  soul  has  wings. 


WILLOW  WANDS. 

BACK  at  the  dear  old  home  I  am  once  more. 

The  willow  wands  beat  on  the  window  pane 
In  short,  sharp,  sudden  strokes  and  gentle 
taps, 

As  fitful  as  the  wind-swept  summer  rain. 

Here  at  the  study-window,  looking  south, 
I  stand  as  in  some  long-past  childhood's  day, 

And   watch   brown   shadows   of   the   willow 

wands 
Flutter  and  flit,  then  ghostlike  fade  away. 

Green  willow  wands  my  brother  once  and  I 
Twisted  in  classic  wreaths — mythical  play. 

I  crowned  him  Jupiter,  and  Juno  fair 

With  willow  wands  he  crowned  me  on  that 
day. 

Silent  is  now  the  breeze  from  out  the  south, 
Quiet  each  leaf  on  vine  and  bush  and  tree. 

'T  was  rose-vine  tapping  on  the  window-pane 
Brought  thoughts  of  home  and  willow  wands 
to  me. 


99 


A  VALENTINE. 

SHALL  I  a  red  rose  send  to  thee 

To  be  thy  valentine? 
Or  dainty  blue  forget-me-nots, 

To  plead,  "  Wilt  thou  be  mine  ?  " 

Not  these, — an  arrow  I  will  wreathe 

With  violets  of  blue, — 
And  bend  the  bow,  and  it  shall  fly 

And  tell  my  love  to  you. 


100 


FRIENDS  OF  LONG  AGO. 

I  'LL  not  go  out  this  afternoon ; 

Thank  you,  I  will  not  go. 
I  've  visitors  most  loved  and  dear — 

Some  friends  of  long  ago. 

"  Who  are  they  ?  "    Why,  they  're 
daffodils, — 

Not  long  my  friends  may  stay. 
I  '11  not  go  out  this  afternoon, — 

I  '11  go  some  other  day. 


101 


RESCUED. 

JUST  at  her  feet  on  pavement  cold 
A  sweet  blue  violet  lay, 

One  pale-gold  star  was  in  the  sky, 
'T  was  at  the  close  of  day. 

She  rescued  it  with  loving  hand 
From  'neath  the  hurrying  feet, 

And   fastened  it  quite  near  her 

heart, 
The  violet  so  sweet. 


102 


TELL  ME. 

DOES  the  sweet  thought  come  to  you, 

As  you  long  and  long  each  day 
For  the  loved  one  who  has  gone 

Up  the  shining,  starry  way, 
That  you  've  some  one  waiting  there 

Who  will  welcome  you  some  day, 
And  there  '11  be  no  night  of  tears, 

But  a  never-ending  day? 


103 


CHOIR-BOYS. 

ANGELIC  seem  the  choir-boys 

In  vestments  white, 
Their  voices  winging  up  to  Heaven 

In  airy  flight, 

Then  floating  softly  down 

In  sad  refrain, 

As  banished  from  "  the  Pearly 
Gates  " 

To  earth  again. 

From  the  boy-choir  look  out 

With  rapt  blue  eyes, 
Faces  as  fair  as  cherubs  are 

In  painted  skies. 

Yet  boylike  is  the  choir, 

On  mischief  bent, 
Oft  rippling  into  sunny  smiles 

Of  merriment, 


104 


CHOIR-BOYS. 

As  wild  flowers  of  the  fields, 

By  winds  bent  low, 
Flutter  and  ripple  in  soft  lines 

Of  gold  and  snow. 

The  earth  and  yearning  heavens 

Boy  voices  blend, 
As  sweetest  notes  on  wings  of 
song 

Upward  they  send. 


105 


UP  FROM  THE  SEA. 

WRAPPED  in  chill  fog, — oh,  so  silvery  white ! — 
Up  out  of  the  sea  come  the  silent  dead. 
Through    streets   of   the   city   with   unheard 

tread 

They  wander  together.   'T  is  All  Souls'  night. 
One  looks  in  the  window  where  long  ago, 
Beloved  at  the  hearthstone,  she  had  a  place. 
Her  loving  eyes  rest  upon  each  dear  face, 
Noiseless  her  garments,  they  never  will  know. 
Men  shuddering  hurry  along  the  street ; 
They  shiver  at  touch  of  the  cold  white  mist, 
They  feel  a  horror  they  cannot  resist, — 
They  know  not  't  is  spirit  they  love  they  meet. 
And  they  long  for  the  morning's  warm  sun 
light, 
Forgetting,  alas !  it  is  All  Souls'  night. 


106 


CALIFORNIA  SPRINGTIME. 

THE  fields  are  all  aflame  with  gold, 
"  Sweet  fields  of  living  green," 

And  wild  flowers  tall,  all  bonnie  blue, 
Are  fretted  in  between. 

Down  by  the  brook  the  iris  nods, 

And  slender  lilies  fair, 
While  buttercups,  like  daytime  stars, 

Are  scattered  everywhere. 

Unseen,  somewhere  a  meadow-lark 

For  very  gladness  sings, 
And  yellow  bees  and  butterflies 

Float  by  on  airy  wings. 

O  land  of  sunshine  by  the  sea, 
Where  golden  poppies  grow ! 

Fair  blossoms  crown  thee  all  the  year, 
White  blossoms  are  thy  snow. 


107 


SUDDENLY. 

SOMETIME  the  Lord  our  God  will  come  sud 
denly, 
Even    as    comes    the    earthquake    without 

warning. 
Like  autumn's  yellow  leaves  the  bright  stars 

will  fall, 
And    their    soft    light    go   out    without    a 

warning. 

Shall  we  be  ready,  doing  Thy  will,  O  Lord, 
Waiting  as  one  who  watcheth  for  the  morn 
ing? 


108 


WHAT  THE  BIRDS  SING. 

Do  THE  little  birds  eat  up  the  snow? 

Oh,  no. 
But  they  sing  to  the  sun : 

"  Make  it  go — make  it  go." 

Do  they  sing  any  more  to  the  sun  ? 

Oh,  yes. 
They  sing,  "  Shine,  shine,  bright  sun, 

And  the  wild  flowers  kiss." 

And  a  secret  they  sing  to  the  sun, 

But  low : 
"  We  've  a  nest  in  a  tree, — 

Send  your  sunbeams  to  see." 


109 


I  HEARD  YOU  SING. 

S.   HOWARD    CUYLER,   OF  THE  BOSTONIANS. 

'NEATH  marble  of  the  snow 

All  dreamless  slept  the  weary  earth  that  day. 

Brown,  leafless  were  the  trees ; 

Joy,  like  the  summer  birds,  had  flown  away. 

'T  was  then  I  heard  you  sing. 

Your  voice — God's  gift — was  tender,  true  and 

sweet. 

Summer  came  back  to  me, 
And  sudden  roses  blossomed  round  my  feet. 

DENVER,  1900. 


110 


SWEET  PEAS. 

DAINTY  sweet  pea-blossoms 

Fastened  to  my  dress, 
Perfume  wafting  upward 

Like  a  fond  caress, 

Bring  to  me  the  picture 

Of  a  quaint  old  town, 
And  a  little  cottage, 

Weather-beaten,  brown. 

Climbing  o'er  its  windows 
Pink-and-white  sweet  peas, 

Swinging  perfume-censers 
In  the  June-day  breeze. 

I,  a  tiny  maiden 

In  a  summer  gown, 
Looking  o'er  the  gateway 

Of  the  cottage  brown, 

Hear  a  kind  voice  saying, 
"  Your  blue  eyes  ask, '  Please,'- 

Here  's  some  blossoms  for  you — 
Pink-and-white  sweet  peas." 

in 


INDIAN  SUMMER. 

IN  the  warm,  hazy,  still  October  noon, 
The  leaves  are  falling.    One  by  one  they  float 
Away  like  butterflies  or  fairy  boat 
Upon  the  sultry  southern  breeze,  but  soon, 
At  sudden  gust,  like  flocks  of  birds  they  fly, 
Scarlet  and  gold  and  brown,  far  out  of  sight ; 
And  ne'er-returning  north  wind  in  its  flight 
Tells  if  they  build  their  nests  in  pine-trees 

high. 

A  half-hid  glory  wraps  the  earth  around 
In  smoky  veil,  fringed  well  in  sunset  skies 
With  burnished  threads  of  flame  and  orange 

dyes. 

'T  is  silent  save  for  cricket's  cheerful  sound. 
In  this  bright  silence  Indian  Summer  stands, 
A  princess  visitant  from  southern  lands. 


112 


"BOW  DOWN  THINE  EAR,  O  LORD, 
AND  HEAR  ME." 

PSALM    LXXXVI. 

Bow  down  thine  ear,  O  Lord,  and  hear  me, 
As  penitent  for  sin  I  come  to  Thee. 

By  Christ's  sweet  love  and  pity  listen, — 
"  Bow  down  thine  ear  and  harken,  Lord,  to 
me." 

"  Bow  down  thine  ear,  O  Lord,  and  hear  me," 
While  I  my  heart  and  life  give  unto  Thee ; 

By  Christ's  sweet  love  and  pity  listen, — 
"  Bow  down  thine  ear  and  harken  unto  me." 

"  Bow  down  thine  ear,  O  Lord,  and  hear  me," 
Help  me  to  keep  the  vows  I  've  made  to 

Thee. 

By  Christ's  sweet  love  and  pity  listen, — 
"  Bow  down  thine  ear  and  harken,  Lord,  to 

me." 


TAKE  HEART. 

IF  thy  frail  bark  is  tossed  on  stormy  seas, 
Sail  on ;  thou  yet  mayst  see  arise  lands  fair 

Out   of   the   inky   waves, — green    flower-full 

isles, — 
Thou  yet  mayst  breathe  the  balmy  tropic  air. 

If  but  the  cries  of  sailors  thou  canst  hear, 
Remember  they  are  pilots  to  that  shore 

Where  thou  shalt  hear  the  songs  of  summer 

birds 
And  dwell  in  golden  sunlight  evermore. 

Alone  on  floating  wreck,  do  not  despair; 

From  the  fair  isle  a  sail  may  just  be  set 
To  rescue  thee  by  some  courageous  hand. 

Keep  heart,  keep  heart ;  thou  mayst  be  happy 
yet. 


114 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  WILD  POPPY. 

STATE    FLOWER    OF    CALIFORNIA. 

AWAKE,  O  golden  poppies,  for  thy  king, 
The  sun,  is  coming  from  the  bright'ning 
east. 

The  lances  of  his  guard  flash  on  the  hills. 
Awake,  O  flowers,  for  the  royal  feast. 

All  the  long  fervid  summer  day  he  '11  sit 
A  kingly  presence  on  his  azure  throne, 

Attended  by  the  clouds,  his  messengers, 

Monarch  of  sky  and  sea  and  earth — alone. 

Ye  are  his  children.    In  the  long  ago, 

Because  he  loved  the  earth,  with  his  own 
hand 

He  cast  a  meteor ;  its  fragments  were 

Bright-shining  poppy-seeds  of  sunset  land. 


115 


FOUND. 

I  WATCH  the  tender  leaves  this  April  day  un 
folding, 
And  look  upon  the  shadows  flitting  o'er  the 

lawn, 

And  I  see  children's  faces  bright  and  winning, 
The  faces  of  my  darlings  long,  long  gone. 

The  first  I  see  is  baby  in  his  dimpled  sweetness, 
Blue  eyes,  white  face,  and  little  rings  of 
curling  hair. 

I  hold  my  hands  out  to  embrace  him  fondly, — 
Alas,  they  only  meet  the  empty  air. 

Again  I  feel  a  rosy  hand  mine  tightly  holding, 
And  guide  two  wee  feet  trying  hard  to  cross 
the  floor, 

To  see  dear,  faithful  Carlo  soundly  sleeping 
In  the  warm  sunshine  just  outside  the  door. 

116 


FOUND. 

In   sailor   suit   and   hat,    with   many   happy 

children, 
I  see  my  schoolboy  coming  down  the  village 

street; 
His  hair  wind-tossed,  his  glowing  cheeks  like 

roses, 
Again  my  schoolboy  I  shall  never  greet. 

Away,  away  with  all  my  sweetly  tender  dream 
ing! 

I  hear  a  bounding  step  upon  the  oaken  stair. 
I  look  into  the  blue  eyes  bending  o'er  me, — 

My  baby,  toddler,  schoolboy  all  are  there. 


117 


IMMORTAL  FLOWERS. 

PLACE  violets  blue  about  the  dead 
In   "  the   vague   dark "    that   round   them 

closes, 
And  scatter  on  the  pillow  of  their  "  dreamless 

bed" 
A  few  white  roses. 

I  fancy  if  the  flowers  we  love 

Go  with  us  down  to  Death's  dark  portal, 
They  '11  bloom  again  upon  "  the  other  side," 
And  be  immortal. 


118 


A  COLONIAL  COURTSHIP. 

DOWN  wilderness  path  he  came 
One  beautiful  summer  day; 

A  sweetbrier  rose  he  held, 
A  rose  of  the  tangled  way. 

His  face  was  browned  by  the  sun 
Of  Plymouth  beside  the  sea 

And  winds  of  the  wilderness, — 
A  Puritan  youth  was  he. 

She  sat  at  the  spinning-wheel, 
And  the  yellow  flax  did  spin. 

At  open  lattice  he  paused 
To  gaze  on  the  girl  within. 

O  girl  of  century  gone! 

He  thought  you  were  fair  and  sweet, 
And  tossed,  to  tell  you  his  love, 

The  sweet  wild  rose  at  your  feet. 


119 


BEYOND. 

DREAD  not  the  days  that  lie  beyond  thy  sight, 
Cry  not  for  bread  ye  may  not  need  to  eat ; 

Fear  not  the  coming  storm  of  wind  and  rain 
That  soon  on  thy  defenseless  head  may  beat. 

Perhaps  some  one  to  thee  now  all  unknown 
May  into  pleasant  pathways  lead  thy  feet, 

Or  the  long-dreaded  storm  of  wind-swept  rain 
Upon  thy  grave  a  requiem  may  beat. 


THE  FLOWERS  HE  PLANTED. 

THEY  speak  to  me — the  flowers  he  planted ; 

The  roses  fair,  the  ivy  clinging  to  the  wall, 
The  pansies  on  the  lawn,  the  red  carnations, 

Each  to  my  heart  fond  memories  recall. 

Here  in  the  sunshine  stood  we  oft  together. 

Alas!  now  every  dewdrop  seems  to  me  a 

tear 
That  rests  upon  the  flowers  he  planted. 

How  can  they  blossom  when  he  is  not  here  ? 


A  FRINGE  OF  GOLD. 

THE  golden  billows  of  poppies 

Roll  out  on  the  headlands  bold, 
And  the  white  pearls  of  the  breakers 

Meet  the  shining  flowers  of  gold 
That  ripple  in  lines  of  beauty, 

Dividing  the  sea  from  the  land, — 
A  tangle  of  gold  and  sea-pearls, 

Bright  fringe  of  the  sunset  strand. 


121 


THE  SPELL  OF  SPRING. 

THERE  is  no  heart  so  full  of  worldly  care  and 

self 
That  unto  it  no  loving  memories  come  in 

spring— 
The  thought  of  daffodils  beside  the  garden 

walk, 

The  joy  the  song  of  Robin-Redbreast  used 
to  bring, 

The  ropes  of  sudden  raindrops  gleaming  in  the 

sun, 
The  jeweled  spider-webs  tight  fastened  to 

the  trees, 
The    dandelions, —  yellow    daytime    stars    of 

earth, — 

The  perfume  of  the  lilac  wafted  on  the 
breeze. 

A  mother's  face  that  faded  as  a  springtime 

cloud 
Into  the  blue, — an  angel's  face  from  out  the 

past, — 

There  cannot  be  a  heart  so  full  of  aught  beside 
That  the  sweet  spell  of  spring  is  not  upon 
it  cast. 

123 


PALM  SUNDAY. 

UPWARD  from  Bethany, 
Over  Mount  Olivet, 

Rideth  a  King. 
No  music  of  timbril, 

No  flutter  of  banner; 
But  palms  in  His  pathway, 
And  voices  that  sing, 
"  Hosanna !  Hosanna ! 
Hosanna ! " 


THOUGHTS  AT  SEA. 

SHIPS  have  their  sails, 

Sea-gulls  white  wings  for  flight, 

And  who  shall  say 

The  prisoned  soul 

Finds  not  its  hidden  wings, 

And  floats  away? 


123 


WHITE  ROSES. 

SHE  fastened  white  roses  upon  her  dress, 
Though  jewels  shone  in  her  nut-brown  hair, 

And  carried  white  roses  in  her  hands 

That  faded  and  drooped  in  the  gaslight's 
glare. 

And  the  maiden  bowed  her  beautiful  head, 

As  over  white  roses  love's  vows  were  said. 

They  laid  white  roses  against  her  hair, 
Her  gleaming,  waving  hair  of  gold, 

And  scattered  white  roses  above  her  heart, 
And  placed  them  in  her  hands  so  cold. 

Upon  white  roses  love's  tears  were  shed, 

And  over  white  roses  a  prayer  was  said. 


124 


A  NORSE  GIRL  TO  HER  VIKING 
ANCESTOR. 

V 

HUBBA,  my  ancestor,  pirate-king1, 
Did  you  give  to  me  my  face  so  fair? 

My  eyes,  pale-blue  as  are  northern  skies, 
My  long  bright  ripples  of  yellow  hair? 

You  were  a  pirate,  and  sailed  the  seas. 

Is  that  the  reason  when  north  winds  blow 
I  am  as  happy  as  birds  a-wing, 

Merry,  merry  as  white  falling  snow? 

You  were  a  king,  O  ancestor  mine ! 

Is  that  why  I  so  long  for  a  crown — 
For  a  little  wreath  of  laurel-leaves? 

Is  that  your  heritage  handed  down  ? 


AN  INVITATION  TO  CALIFORNIA. 

THERE  is  a  land  by  the  sunset  sea, 
Where  the  year  is  wrapped  in  balmy 

weather, 
Where  the  days  are  strung  on  sunbeam 

threads, 

And  clasped  with  roses  and  pinks  to 
gether. 

Come  to  this  land  by  the  sunset  sea, 
Where  the  year  is  wrapped  in  balmy 

weather, 
Where  the  days  are  strung  on  sunbeam 

threads, 

And  clasped  with  roses  and  pinks  to 
gether. 


126 


A  TOKEN. 

I  HOLD  a  little  book — my  name  I  see — 

And  "  Merrie  Christmas  "  gift  for  me, 

Written  in  boyish  hand  when  joy  of  him 

Made  my  world  bright. 

Now  he  is  gone,  't  is  twilight  dim, 

Deep'ning  to  night. 

Oh,  little  book  with  covers  blue, 

Flecked  o'er  with  white, 

You  bring  my  darling's  voice, 

His  face  to-night. 


127 


"FOR   VIOLETS   ARE   SWEET." 

"  BUY  my  violets,  lady ; 

For  violets  are  sweet." 
Pleaded  a  soft  Italian  voice 

Upon  a  city  street. 

0  voice  and  eyes  pathetic 
Of  boy  upon  the  street ! 

1  filled  my  hands  with  violets — 
"  For  violets  are  sweet." 


128 


DAISIES   OF   SCOTLAND. 

THREE  pretty  blossoms 
Came  o'er  the  sea, — 

Little  pink  daisies, 
Gathered  for  me. 

"  Hame  "  of  the  daisies 
Would  I  could  see, 

Daisies'  "  ain  countrie  " 
Over  the  sea. 

Gladly  I  welcomed 
Pink  daisies  three, 

Daisies  of  Scotland, 
From  o'er  the  sea. 


129 


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